


The Saltwater Room

by foggys_cupcake_girl



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Boys In Love, Credence Barebone Gets a Hug, Cuddling & Snuggling, Day At The Beach, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fluff, Happy Credence Barebone, High School Student Credence Barebone, M/M, Original Percival Graves is a Softie, Protective Original Percival Graves, Scars, Self-Esteem Issues, Smitten Original Percival Graves, Summer Vacation, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Trans Male Character, Trans Original Percival Graves, Young Love, Young Original Percival Graves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:21:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27483370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foggys_cupcake_girl/pseuds/foggys_cupcake_girl
Summary: Credence was thrilled at the idea of going on vacation over the summer with his adoptive mom Seraphina…until he found out they were going with the Graves family and their extremely attractive son. There's no way Percy could possibly like Credence the way Credence likes him...right?
Relationships: Credence Barebone/Original Percival Graves
Comments: 13
Kudos: 28





	The Saltwater Room

**Author's Note:**

  * For [writingramblr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingramblr/gifts).



> It starts like this:

The summer before his senior year of high school Credence’s parents decide to take a family vacation. They also decide to share the 10-bed summer cottage with their family friends: Jennifer and Arthur Graves, and their 19-year-old son…and that, of course, is where the trouble starts.

Credence’s best friend Newt’s older brother is best friends with Percy Graves. So of course Credence has met him. More than that, actually. He’s…he’s _liked_ Percy for a while now. But of course he’d never dare to tell Percy that. He’s two years younger and completely inexperienced. He hasn’t dated _anyone,_ much less a cute college guy who’s seen him in pajamas. 

(He wouldn’t sleep over at Newt’s house for a month after that. He was too nervous that it would happen again, and he doesn’t like the way he looks in PJs. Like a skinny, messy-haired little scarecrow.)

Now he has to spend seven weeks in a house with the guy he likes.

Credence does not know how to handle this. At all.

~

For the first week he is skittish and scared and refuses to go out of his room in anything less than full length workout pants and a rash guard over his swim trunks. He’s well aware of what his skin looks like, the network of scars over his back, the burn marks on his stomach, the cuts on his palm.

(Newt calls him “Deadpool,” sometimes, to make him feel better. Sometimes, it actually works. Other times, he just wants to cry. Deadpool is tough and smart and can make almost anyone like him and can easily take out the people who don’t. Even with his scars, he is _nothing_ like Deadpool.)

If Percy sees him shirtless Credence will die, just die. Especially since he’s seen _Percy_ shirtless and _ugh,_ he has more muscle and a better tan than _any_ teenage boy has a right to, even a college one. He doesn’t look like a hunk out of a magazine, but who wants that, really? He’s got a bit of muscle built up and he’s got…he’s got _actual_ body hair, and Credence wants to cry when he looks in the mirror and sees his own flat, skinny, almost-hairless chest.

_He’s so handsome, and I’m…me. It’s not fair._

Seraphina persuades him to go out on the beach one day, promising he doesn’t have to take off his rash guard if he doesn’t want to. “You look like a surfer dude,” Percy greets him cheerfully at breakfast. “Gonna catch a few waves?”

Credence squeaks. Like an actual fucking _mouse._ “Um.”

“It’s not really surfing conditions out there,” Seraphina remarks as she passes him a bowl of cereal, which Credence gratefully begins to eat because it gives him something to do with his hands. “But we do have some body boards. You could show him how, Percy.”

“Sure. Bodysurfing is easy, ’specially for a guy built like you,” he tells Credence brightly, and Credence, through sheer force of will, manages not to choke on his breakfast at the thought of Percy _looking at his body._

He ventures down to the beach but can’t bring himself to get in the water, nor can he stop himself from staring when Percy peels off his t-shirt and splashes into the waves like it’s nothing. He looks _good_ out there, moving through the water like he’s part mermaid, catching waves on his bodyboard and whooping with excitement like he’s actually doing something impressive rather than literally playing with a toy…and really, Credence is sure, Percy could build a sandcastle and make it look sexy.

It’s not that he’s tall or hunky or ripped or whatever. Credence isn’t _completely_ out of his mind; he can admit that Percy’s not really any more or less impressive than any other boy he’s met on his college tours. But he’s open and friendly, and he comes to the shore every few minutes to try and coax Credence into joining him in the water, and when he comes up the beach with his wet hair in perfect disarray, droplets of water sluicing down the outlines of the muscles that are just _slightly_ more defined than those of the guys in Credence’s gym class, a look of unfettered delight in those sweet brown eyes…Credence just wants to melt. Fall into those strong arms, bury his face in that long neck, kiss those drops of water off his soft skin.

 _It’s not fair, he’s so cute,_ Credence sulks as their parents bring down a cooler of food and coax Percy to come out of the water long enough to eat a sandwich. He goes and hides in the house after that.

That night Percy invites him to go for a drive. “I brought my truck,” he says eagerly. “It’s fun to drive around out here at night.” 

Topsail is quiet for a tourist town, and Credence would love to go out, but there’s no way he can survive an hour in the cab of a truck with Percy. Not with him smelling so good—sage and cedarwood from his soap, mixed with the tang of saltwater and sunscreen and aloe after-sun lotion—and he’s pretty sure that being so physically close to Percy without being able to touch him will make him actually combust. Besides, he’s not dumb. He knows what this is. He’s the son of a family friend and Percy has probably been told to be nice to him.

“I can’t,” he says. “I’m—I’m tired. I need to…go to bed.” And then he flees.

He hides in his room until Seraphina comes in with a cup of his favorite tea. “I’m not trying to butt in, but I think you may have hurt Percy’s feelings,” she tells him carefully. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Credence pounces on the opportunity. His mom, he decides, is just the person to ask about this; she managed to get married, didn’t she? She must at least know _something_ about how all this dating business works.

“I like him,” he admits, “and I don’t think…I don’t think I can tell him. Mom, _look_ at me,” he cuts her off when she starts to say something. “I’m…he’s…I just can’t, okay? Even if he does like me, which I don’t think he possibly can, I’m…I’m going to mess it up, I just know. I’ve never done anything like this before, and…I don’t know,” he finishes miserably. “He’s just so nice, and so cute, and I’m…me.”

Sera smiles understandingly. “Well, I’m not going to waste my breath convincing you that you’re cute too, because when I was your age I wouldn’t have believed my mom if she said that,” she tells him as she pats his knee reassuringly. Then her smile drops as she adds, “But I _will_ tell you that I just saw a very upset young man sitting in the cab of a truck tell his mother that he wants to be left alone.”

Credence is—not exactly sure how to feel about that. He’s not _happy_ that Percy is upset, in fact it kind of makes his stomach wrench a little. But there’s a little twinge of hope, too, because if Percy _is_ upset right now, that means he _wanted_ Credence to say yes to a drive, and that’s…not exactly something one does when they’ve just escaped an obligation “play-date” with their mom’s best friend’s son.

“Do you think if I went down there right now, he’d…talk to me?” he says tentatively, not daring to voice his actual hope.

But of course Sera knows; with another knowing little smile she reaches over and squeezes his hand. “I think he would.”

“Mom…I don’t…” Suddenly he feels afraid again. “God, what do I _say?”_

“How about you start with, ‘I changed my mind, I’d like to spend some time with you, and I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings,’” Sera suggests. “And if that goes well…you know, there’s a McDonald’s not too far from here, why don’t you two go get dinner without us tonight?”

“I can’t _ask him out,”_ Credence protests, a rush of emotion crashing through his belly, butterflies and nausea colliding as he tries to work through an idea so terrifyingly exciting.

“Oh, I think you can. Credence, honey, just remember: he’s only human, just like you.”

He doesn’t want to think about what that means. That Percy, perfect Percy who’s been the star of his dreams for months now, might have a fragile heart and that he, Credence, the boy from the broken home, the boy Sera and Kingsley had to rescue, is capable of breaking it.

But his mom is usually right. So he decides to listen. He doesn’t give himself time to overthink. Doesn’t change out of his cargo shorts and long-sleeved t-shirt into something cuter, doesn’t even comb his hair. He just goes outside and forces himself to walk the long, _long_ ten steps up to Percy’s truck, which is right at the tail end of the gravel driveway.

Percy _looks_ sad. He looks…almost as unhappy as Credence felt a few minutes ago. Now Credence feels nauseous, and Percy looks like he may have been crying, and if that’s his fault Credence will be utterly disgusted with himself. _I don’t deserve you,_ he thinks, heart in his throat, before he taps on the window.

When Percy looks up and sees him, his face flashes from confused to angry to hopeful to resigned, all in about four seconds. He rolls the window down and asks, “Did Mom make you come out here? Or was it your mom?”

Credence shakes his head. “No one made me come out. I, um. I…I kind of…” He bites his lip and looks away. Why does this always look so easy in the movies? “Can we go for that drive?” he asks shyly, and when he looks up, oh God, the look in Percy’s eyes is _everything._

“Do you really want to?” Percy asks carefully. “Or, like. Do you just feel sorry for me or whatever?”

Credence firmly shakes his head again. “I said no because—because I thought that’s why you asked. Because you felt sorry for me,” he admits in a rush.

Percy raises his eyebrows. “Jesus, Cree. Do I have to spell it out for you?”

“I wish you would.”

Percy stares at Credence for a minute and then laughs. “God, you’re cute. All right, get in here,” he says, and Credence wastes no time in scrambling around to the passenger side and climbing in. “There’s not much around here unless we go into town,” Percy says as Credence buckles his seatbelt, “but if you’re hungry we can go grab some burgers or something, you want to?”

Credence doesn’t think he could eat if it was his last meal before his execution right now. But Percy looks so eager he doesn’t have it in him to deny the older boy anything, so he says, “Yeah, let’s go eat,” and Percy just about lights up as he turns the key in the ignition and the truck rumbles to life.

~

They get food from McDonald’s and drive back to the beach to eat it. The food is every bit as delightfully terrible as it is at every other McDonald’s franchise in existence: greasy and salty and somehow still unspeakably delicious. But there’s something magical about eating in the bed of Percy’s truck looking out over the ocean, and even plain chicken nuggets dipped in plain old ranch sauce taste like five-star cuisine under such exciting circumstances.

“Okay,” Percy says with a grin as he picks up the hot-fudge sundae he had to persuade Credence to order. “I’m gonna do something and I want you to do it too, and if you hate it you can tell me and I won’t ask again, okay?”

Credence’s mind goes wild at the thought of all the things _that_ could entail. “Okay,” he agrees carefully, wondering if Percy is actually about to ask him to lick ice cream off his abs and wondering with equal intensity how he’ll be able to do so without passing out.

But all Percy does is withdraw a fry from the bag sitting between them, swirl it around inside the ice cream and fudge, and pop it into his mouth while Credence sits there shorting out like a robot. “Okay. Your turn,” he says, nudging the fast-food bag towards Credence with his foot.

“That’s it? Oh. You scared me,” Credence admits as he reaches into the bag to withdraw a french fry. He’s actually done this before. He’s scared of his own shadow and he goes to therapy twice a week and he still sleeps with a night light, but under all that he is still very definitely a teenage guy. Weird food combinations are absolutely nothing to him. He briefly considers confessing that he’s eaten weirder things—candy corn on cheese pizza is a surprise favorite from last Halloween—but he decides it’s too early for that.

Percy frowns a little as Credence scoops up ice cream with his fries. “Um. What exactly did you think I had in mind?”

Credence does not want to answer that question. “Never mind,” he says, and Percy still looks a little on edge, but he thankfully drops the subject.

When they’re done eating, Percy makes them a nest of blankets and beach towels in the back of his truck and indicates that they should curl up in it together. “Oh, I’m…I’m, uh, not good at that…I have scars,” Credence tell him, with the air of ripping off a band-aid.

“So do I,” Percy says calmly. “You’ve seen them when we were swimming.”

“Yeah but like…you have, like, normal scars from stuff that happens to normal kids. I have…” Credence carefully considers what he’d like to say, and finally come up with, “I don’t know what my parents told your parents, but…um. Before they came to get me…there were…I was…”

Percy reaches out and gently squeezes my hand. “You don’t have to tell me,” he assures Credence softly. “And listen…I don’t want anything from you, okay? I just want to hold you.”

And oh, God, Credence _does_ want to be held. Slowly, as if one of them will explode if he goes too fast, he edges into the blanket nest and lays his head against Percy’s shoulder, draping an arm carefully over his chest. Percy slides one arm underneath Credence and places his free hand over his, trapping Credence’s hand against his beating heart. 

Credence lets out a breathy little gasp, and Percy laughs so quietly Credence feels it instead of hearing it. “Are we okay?” he says, and Credence nods against his chest. “Good. Can we stay like this for a while, you think?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think this is good.”

Credence can feel Percy’s heart beating under his palm, can feel the rise and fall of his chest under his head. He thought the only form of intimacy he could expect from a date or, dare he think the word, a _boyfriend_ would be sexual. He thought, _okay, I’ve been in a locker room or two in my day, I’ve heard things, I can fake my way through that._ But no. Percy doesn’t want Credence to suck him off or feel him up. He just wants to cuddle, and that’s more overwhelming than anything sexual favor he could have requested.

Their bodies are pressed full against each other, Credence’s belly pressed up against Percy’s hip, their legs tangled together, Credence’s head tucked up under his chin. There’s no subtle way to edge back if Credence needs to, and he realizes with a jolt of mixed pleasure and fear that if Percy were to shift his hips to the side, even a little bit, he’d be just at the right angle to…

 _No, don’t even think about it._ Credence swallows hard and presses his face into Percy’s chest. He will _die_ if he gets hard right now—will walk straight into the freaking ocean and drown himself out of sheer embarrassment.

Percy smells so good…Credence knew he would; he knows the scent of Percy’s soap better than his own at this point, but there’s something musky and warm underneath it that he knows is _Percy’s scent._ His heart won’t slow down, and he’s pressed so close against Percy that he know Percy can feel it. _His heartbeat is so steady; why is mine so fast? Is that weird? Is he going to think that’s weird?_ Credence tries to muffle the sound of his shaking breaths in Percy’s shirt. _Relax. He’s not going to hurt you,_ he reminds himself.

Credence thought that he could handle this, but oh, God, Percy is so _good_ , and Credence is…well, Credence. Tears well in his eyes and he bites down on his tongue, hard, to keep an actual sob from escaping. _You fucking freak. This stupidly attractive guy_ likes _you and you can’t even let yourself enjoy it. He’s going to realize any moment now what a complete loser you are and_ —

“Hey, _hey,”_ Credence suddenly hears Percy say bracingly, his hand running up and down Credence’s spine as if to reassure him. “Wanna tell me what’s wrong?”

Credence realizes his efforts to suppress his tears have led to shudders wracking the rest of his body. Oh, this just isn’t _fair_. He tries to pull away, but Percy holds him close and this, of course, is the thing that undoes him entirely. “Please don’t do this to me,” Credence whispers. “Please don’t give me hope.”

“Don’t— _what?_ Jesus, Credence. What the hell are you talking about?”

Credence cringes and tries to pull away again, but Percy won’t let go, God, _he won’t let go,_ and Credence’s heart is already falling to pieces in his chest and he can’t take this. “I really like you,” he blurts out. “And I don’t want to mess this up and I already have, and I know you can’t _really_ want me, so—just let me go, okay?”

“Why the hell would I ask you out if I didn’t like you?” Percy asks, sounding more confused than angry. “Do you think I’m just playing you? Is that it?”

“What other motivation could you possibly have? Like…you’re _amazing_ , what could you possibly be getting out of this?”

“Oh… _fuck.”_ Understanding creeps into his voice, and Credence tenses into a block of trembling ice. Percy goes back to petting him like a nervous animal, his hand tracing repetitive, soothing circles across Credence’s back. “I guess there’s no point in me telling you that I think you’re, like, _stupid_ fucking hot and that I’ve had a crush on you since we met, is there?”

Credence is torn between desperate hope and heartbreaking uncertainty. “Please don’t say that if you don’t mean it,” he whispers into Percy's neck. “Please, Percy, I can’t—I can’t take that.”

“I mean it. I do. God, I want you,” he says fervently. “You really think that a couple of stupid _scars_ is going to stop me from—” He abruptly breaks off. “I won’t say that,” he says after a long pause, “because I have a feeling if I tell you all the stuff I want to do with you, you’ll totally flip out on me and I don’t want that. I just…I want you to understand, okay? I _like_ you. God, Cree, how did you not _know?_ Newt and Theo have been giving me shit for it for an actual _year_ now, I mean… _fuck!”_

Credence laughs through his tears. “I told you I’m not good at this stuff.”

“I’ll say.” Percy squeezes him, very gently, as if to reassure Credence that he’s just kidding. “Shit. I thought you were just playing hard to get, but…have you really been scared of me?”

“You’re older. And hot,” Credence points out, and then blushes so hard he’s surprised the tears on his face don’t boil.

Percy laughs at that. “Jesus. Look in the mirror sometime,” he teases.

Meanwhile Credence is starting to feel a little stupid. He can’t stop blushing _or_ crying and it makes him feel weak, even more so when he tries to pull away again and realizes— “Oh…I’ve gotten you all wet. I’m sorry.”

“Wait—are you crying?” Percy sounds genuinely shocked. “Damn it, why didn’t you—right. Yeah. Okay. Come here.” He rolls them over so that Credence’s whole upper body aligns with his, and wraps his arms tight around Credence. “I’ve got you,” Percy murmurs into his hair. “It’s okay. I know this is new to you and you’re scared. But you don’t have to be. I won’t hurt you, all right?”

Credence wants so badly to trust him. He kind of has to; it’s too late for him to do anything but fall hard and hope Percy will catch him before he hits the ground. “Please don’t let me go,” he whispers.

“Never, baby,” Percy promises, and the endearment melts what’s left of Credence’s weak defenses and he dissolves into Percy’s arms like a sandcastle washed away by the tide.

~

The next morning Percy casually tells their parents that he wants to go out, just the two of them, to the carnival on the boardwalk. Their parents all seem to be fine with it, but that night as they're getting ready to go, Percy’s dad slips something into the pocket of his shorts and says with a smirk, “Remember, son, wrap it before you tap it.”

 _“Dad!”_ Percy practically explodes, while Kingsley absolutely howls with laughter and both of their mothers cringe. “Dad, I—you— _Jesus_ , what do you think I’m gonna do, _get him pregnant?_ ” he says with considerable scorn.

“Yes,” Mr. Graves says with utter seriousness, and Percy just stands there, shock mingling with utter exasperation on his face, until Credence comes to his senses and gets them both the hell out of there.

“Did your dad just give you condoms?” he asks when they finally escape, barely able to keep a straight face.

Percy yanks a strip of silver foil packets from his pocket and looks at them with open distaste. “Does he really think I’m gonna try and get some on the second date?” he mutters, rolling his eyes and shoving the condoms back in his pocket. “ _Jesus._ You just about lost your shit when we snuggled last night, no fucking way am I going to—”

“Okay, but in all fairness, your dad can’t possibly have known that.”

“All right, yeah,” Percy agrees reluctantly, “but still, he knows you, and let’s be real, our parents definitely talk about us when we’re not there…and no offense, but anyone who’s met you knows how tightly wound you are.”

It’s so blunt it would be mean coming from anyone but him. Instead, a laugh bubbles out before Credence can stop it. Percy’s not teasing him, he’s just stating a fact. He looks actively relieved when Credence laughs instead of pouting, and even better, he slips his hand into Credence’s as they walk together.

They don’t go to the carnival. Instead, they take an armful of towels from his truck and stake out a spot on the beach, far away from the tide and hidden safely in some tall grass. Credence doesn’t know what’s going to happen, but he does know that he trusts Percy with every bit of his anxious little heart and oh, God, how he hopes it’s enough.

They lay down together, just as they did in the truck bed. Percy holds Credence as gently as he did the previous night and tells him as they’re settling down on the sand, “Nothing is going to happen tonight. I’ll kiss you if you want, but that’s it, okay?”

“I’m okay with that,” Credence replies, tucking his head into the crook of Percy’s neck, his new safe space.

For a long time they just lie there, listening to each other breathe. Credence can hear the waves now, and just as it has every night, the sound of the shifting tide drains away the tension he’s so used to carrying. Percy strokes up and down Credence's spine with a steady hand and before long he’s sleepy and pliant in Percy’s arms, heartbeat slowing as his mind goes soft around the edges.

It’s only when Percy’s hand catches the hem of his shirt on an upstroke and pulls it up just enough for his fingertips to brush Credence’s skin, that Credence jolts out of his trance and almost pulls away. “Oh,” he gasps, shockwaves dancing across his skin from the place Percy’s fingers just touched.

“Easy,” he rumbles, both arms wrapping around Credence as if to prevent him from running away. “I didn’t mean to do that, baby. I’m sorry.”

“No, I—I liked it,” Credence tells him uncertainly, and he _did,_ feeling Percy touch him was absolutely electrifying, but if he’d been just a few inches higher he would’ve felt scar tissue…

Percy knows, and there’s no judgement in his voice as he says, “I’m not grossed out by your scars. Like. _At all._ I’ll tell you as many times as I have to.” When Credence doesn’t reply, Percy gently takes his hand and guides it under the hem of his shirt. “There we go…ooh,” he breathes as Credence takes the hint and cautiously explores his chest. “There, can you feel that?”

Credence feels around slowly, cautiously, not wanting to take things too far. He can feel…something. A little raised strip of skin low on the right side of Percy’s abdomen. Intrigued, he goes a little higher and feels something in the center of his chest, a little round scar just barely thick enough to be felt. “What’s that?”

Percy chuckles softly. “That’s where Newt beaned me with the head of a model T-rex when we were kids.”

“Oh…” Credence pushes higher and finds, just under the faint swell of his pecs (and, hey, no, it has _not_ escaped his notice that Percy is in excellent shape), two half-moon scars. “What’s this from, your appendix?”

Percy openly snorts. “Oh God. If you honestly think that, please do the world a favor and never go into medicine.” He nudges Credence off of him and sits up, pulling off his t-shirt so Credence can get a better look.

Instinctively Credence shyly averts his eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for you to—”

“Cree, I want you to look,” Percy says gently, and reluctantly, Credence raises his eyes. He’s about to say something about how yes, Percy is totally ripped and it’s unfair, when Percy orders him, “Look closely now. I want you to understand…”

He trails off, and suddenly he doesn’t sound quite so sure of himself. Credence obediently scoots in close and his hand automatically drifts up to touch the soft exposed skin, ready once again to tell Percy how unfairly handsome he is, when he realizes there is something…just slightly off. The nipples aren’t quite the right shape, one of them sags a little (odd, considering how well built Percy is), and of course the scars underneath…

“I know you want me to see that you’re not perfect,” Credence finally says, one hand slowly edging up to cup the underside of Percy’s left pec in his palm, “but all I can think about right now is that you kind of…still are?” His voice goes up on the end, almost a question, and he ends with a little laugh, trying to sound as if he’s kidding, “I could do pushups day in and day out for a month and not have your muscles, it’s not fair.”

“Well, to be fair, I had a little help with that,” Percy points out, gently taking Credence’s hand and moving it back down to the scar tissue. “Sweetheart, I’m trying to make a point here.”

And Credence gets the point, loud and clear. He knows Percy wasn’t born in the body he has now. Knows, from overheard conversations between their mothers, some of the work it took to get there. The Graves family and the Scamander family and Credence’s parents all knew each other for years; Credence has only been part of it for the last six years, but that’s plenty for him to get a good earful of family history, which—well. It’s not important right now. What’s important is that he knows what Percy is trying to say.

“Okay, yeah. I get it.” Credence bites his lip. “So those are the scars from—”

“Yep.”

“And before that, you just…” Credence mimes wrapping a bandage around his chest and Percy laughs and nods. “Didn’t it hurt?”

“Couldn’t breathe,” Percy replies conversationally, lying back down in the sand and pulling Credence on top of him again. “Mom had to make me stop a few times. The tantrums I’d throw over that…you know, not that I don’t wish Sera had gotten you the hell out of there a lot sooner, but I’m really glad we didn’t know each other a few years ago, you’d have hated me.”

“Definitely not,” Credence insists.

“Ever done hormone therapy? Like, you ever take steroids or anything that really shakes up your body like that?”

“No,” Credence admits.

“Yeah, well, trust me. Early transition was…a party, let’s just put it that way.” Percy goes back to rubbing his back, slow and gentle over his shirt, and Credence feels himself beginning to relax again. He can’t quite get over how safe Percy makes him feel, how easily the tension that crackles beneath his skin every moment of every day evaporates with every touch, every word. “All I’m trying to say here is that…like, I _get it._ You don’t like your body and, you know. Been there, done that, got the fucking t-shirt.”

It sinks in, slowly and then suddenly, what Percy is _really_ telling him, and Credence almost starts crying again, just as he did last night. _Your scars are nothing. You are what’s important. You. He likes_ you. _He doesn’t care that you were abused, any more than you care about his top surgery._

“I really like you,” he whispers into Percy’s skin, almost hoping the words will wash away in the ocean tide.

“I like you too.” Percy cradles him close, holding him as protectively and as gently as though Credence is something precious and breakable. “I’ll kiss you whenever you want, if that’ll prove it to you.”

Credence laughs at how casually he says it. Like he’s offering him another trip to McDonald’s. “You know, I think I’d like that.”

“You sure? There’s no rush here. Seriously, the last thing I want is for you to think we, like. _Have_ to or anything.”

“No. I want you to.”

“Okay but are you _really sure,_ because yesterday when I asked you out you looked like you were going to throw up, so—”

“Percy. I want you to kiss me.”

He finds himself on his back, a soft gasp escaping as Percy’s hand slides up the hem of his shirt and rests lightly on the bare skin of his waist. “This okay?” he says, and Credence nods, mesmerized by the feeling of Percy’s skin against his. “Okay. If you don’t like anything I do, stop me,” the older boy orders, and Credence nods once before his eyes fall closed as a soft, warm mouth descends onto his.

And—oh. There is nothing, _nothing_ about this that he doesn’t like.

Percy is an inch or two shorter than him but he’s a good fifteen or so pounds heavier, just enough for Credence to feel warm and protected by the sensation of Percy’s body overtop his. He tastes—good, Credence thinks. His lips are full and plush and Credence thinks he can taste coconut chapstick, and it’s flattering, really, that Percy thought to wear chapstick for him, and he wonders if Percy knew they would kiss tonight.

Instinct tells him to be self-conscious, to lie still to hide that he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. But the warm mouth on his and the tickle of Percy’s long eyelashes against his cheek and the comforting weight of Percy’s body on top of his, all work in tandem to relax him enough to return the kiss. Percy opens Credence’s mouth with the tip of his tongue, very carefully and gently, and at the first touch of that slick, sweet tongue against his Credence thinks he might have just seen the face of God.

He reaches up, carefully, and runs his fingers through Percy’s sleek dark hair. Percy moans softly and appreciatively into the kiss and something inside Credence jolts like he’s just been shocked _(I just made him moan! I did something right!)_ and his free arm clamps down around Percy’s waist as if he might run away when Credence lets go.

 _I think I love you,_ he thinks as Percy detaches their mouths, only to lean down and press a kiss to his neck. He gasps softly, his hips tilting upwards on instinct, and suddenly it’s too much, and he knows what might come after this and he doesn’t want it, not yet. “I think I’m ready to stop,” he manages in a voice that does not sound at all like his own.

Immediately Percy rolls off him and lays there, propped up on one elbow with his hand resting comfortingly on Credence’s belly. “You okay?” he asks, eyeing Credence with obvious concern. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Credence shakes his head. “No, it’s just—a lot,” he tries to explain. _God, you sound like a child. He’s going to know you’re a virgin and he’s going to find someone who isn’t scared to get fucked—_

“Okay. It’s okay. No one knows what the hell to do the first time,” Percy assures him. Then he pauses and asks, “Wait, was that your first kiss?”

No point in lying. “Yeah. How’d I do?”

Percy laughs at that, a gentle, friendly laugh that makes Credence feel appreciated instead of stupid, and leans in close, resting his head in the crook of Credence’s neck as he slings an arm around his waist. “You did good, sweetheart. Really good.” He sighs and relaxes against Credence, who finds no other option but to slide his arm under Percy and hold him against his side. “Is this okay?”

Credence assumes he means the cuddles. “Yeah. I like this.”

They lie together like that, looking up at the stars above them and listening to the sounds of the waves crashing on the beach. It’s a cliche, maybe. Falling in love on the beach. A summer romance that could be more. Credence is well aware that he’s going back to high school in two months while Percy will go off to college, and he’s not naive enough to think it’s going to be like a Hallmark movie.

(And he’s not naive enough to think that there won’t be “talk” if people at school find out. There’s always “talk.” There’s always nasty people to contend with; the first eleven years of Credence’s life did a swell job of teaching him that. But he could deal with her, and he thinks maybe he can deal with everyone else like her, too.)

The important thing, he decides, is that right now he feels good, and Percy is snuggled up to him like a cat, and he can smell Percy’s sage and cedarwood soap and feel the warmth of his skin through his thin t-shirt. And it feels right, and safe. And maybe it’ll be forever, maybe it won’t, but right now. _Right now._ He’s good with what’s happening, even if it’s just for right now.

“I like you,” he says out loud, and Percy’s arm tightens around his waist. “And I—I like the way you make me feel.”

It’s a corny thing to say. But Percy doesn’t seem to mind. “I like the way you make me feel too,” he says quietly, and the gravity of the words hangs between them for the briefest few moments, before it floats away and is lost to the gentle swell and crash of the ocean.


End file.
